


You Know My Hips Don't Lie

by Gadzooks06



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Multi, Other, zumba
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 15:04:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1987362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gadzooks06/pseuds/Gadzooks06
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Musichetta gets a job as a Zumba Instructor! Les Amis decide to take a class. Shenanigans ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Know My Hips Don't Lie

“You are now looking at a newly licensed Zumba instructor!” Musichetta walked in, bags hanging from her wrists and her keys in her hand. Les Amis looked up from where they sat on the floor, take-out containers in their laps,

“Huh?” Feuilly managed, swallowing his mouthful of lo-mein.

“I just aced my Zumba instructor exam!” Musichetta said again. Joly and Bosset stood up, each giving her a kiss on the cheek and taking her bags for her.

“That’s great Chetta!” Grantaire exclaimed, “I’ll have to go to one of your classes sometime.”

Enjolras turned towards R, “Since when do you work out?” he scoffed.

“It’s dancing, babe, I’m an awesome dancer.” Grantaire explained.

“I’ve always wanted to take a class.” Cosette smiled sweetly. Musichetta sat down on the carpet. Bahorel handed her the takeout container with her usual order of sauteed bok choy. She pulled a pair of chopsticks out of their sleeve and dug in.

“What is Zumba anyway?” Combeferre asked, shoving orange chicken into his mouth.

“It’s a workout that works every part of your body, but it just feels like you’re dancing in a latin style.”

Combeferre nodded and turned back to his food.

“I just completed Zumba Basic one, and am taking a course in Basic 2 as soon as I can find the money for it.”

“We should take a class with Chetta guys!” Courfeyrac suggested, nudging Jehan.

“I don’t even own a pair of sneakers!” Prouvaire hissed back.

“Yeah, that sounds like fun!” Grantaire agreed, putting down his food and picking up his glass.

“Let’s do it!” Marius blurted, mushed up dumplings flying from his mouth. Bosset narrowly missing a glob and scowled at Pontmercy. Marius blushed and Cosette patted his arm.

“Yeah, you guys should definitely take a class when I get a job at the gym.” Musichetta pouted, fluttering her long eyelashes.

“When you get a job at the gym, we’ll take a class with you, how does that sound?” Eponine said, perched on top of the coffee table. The group nodded, some gladly, and some needed others to grab their heads and nod for them.

**

“I got the job!” Musichetta said the next week on take-out night, this time at Combeferre’s apartment.

Grantaire wanted to make a toast. Enjolras told him to sit down. Grantaire made the toast anyway. Les Amis lifted their glasses and praised Chetta for her success. They then proceeded to stuff their faces with Indian food. Jehan glared at Courfeyrac with a grumpy face.

“What?” Courf choked on his chicken ticka.

“I still don’t own any sneakers.” The poet growled.

“Well buy some before the class.” Courf said, dismissing the conversation. Jean groaned and flopped his head into Courfeyrac’s lap.

“I don’t want to go.” He whispered.

“It’ll be fun. You’ll have the time of your life.” Courf ran his fingers through Jehan’s hair.

“The butterfly gardens last spring was the time of my life, sweaty latin dancing is not what I call fun.” At this point, Jehan looked over and saw Bousset shooting daggers at him with his eyes. He sat up and looked back down into his food, “Fine.” He mumbled.

Enjolras hadn’t spoken since he’d arrived, “Hey.” Grantaire poked his shoulder with the end of his fork, “You’re being awfully quiet.”

“I can’t dance.” Enjolras admitted in a hushed tone.

“Everyone can dance.” Grantaire chided, reaching across Apollo’s elbow and poking a piece of Shrimp Poori. He quickly popped it into his mouth and smiled triumphantly.

“I never learned how to dance, I didn’t even go to my Senior Prom in high school.” Enjolras idly poked at his shrimp.

“Awww.” Grantaire pouted and put his head on Enjolras’ shoulder, “That’s actually really sad, why didn’t you go?”

“Because I didn’t know how to dance.”

“Chetta will teach you how to dance, and if she can’t, I will.” Grantaire kissed behind Apollo’s ear.

“Okay, but only one class.” Enjolras said, resting his head against Grantaire’s.

“Yay. Paani Poori?” R held up his fork with a puff of bread at the end. Enjolras pulled it off the fork with his teeth and chewed contently, knowing Grantaire did not share his food with anyone but him.

****

“Okay, so, we’re going to run through the routine once to show you the whole thing at full speed, and then, we’re going to break it down, step-by-step.” Chetta turned towards the mirror with the other instructors in the studio and hit the play button on stereo clicker. She slid it across the floor and the music started, most of Les Amis stood, horrified and in awe, the ones who could not dance impressed and terrified at the aspect of moving like that. Grantaire grinned and was already analyzing the moves and slowly replicating them. Jehan was nearly in tears by the time the song was over, the moves were scary and he was dressed in neon shorts that Courfeyrac had picked out. Enjolras was gobsmacked, his eyes were wide and he had now realized that he’d driven right into Fuckville, and Musichetta was the mayor.

“Alright! Let’s get started!” Chetta said once the song was over, she leaned over and tied her hair up into a tight ponytail, securing a headband to the top with an array of bobby pins. Shit was about to go down. Enjolras gulped. He’d promised himself he’d get through one class, he’d promised Chetta that he’d get through one, and if he couldn’t do it, what would the rest think? He grit his teeth and slowly followed after Chetta. Grantaire had the moves down as if he was the instructor, Combeferre not far behind. To his own surprise, Jehan could easily understand the moves and repeat them without too much difficulty. Courfeyrac was having fun even though his timing was slightly off. Joly had a pained expression on his face and was confused the entire time. Chetta came and stood by him, replicating the moves slower than slow so he could get the hang of it.

“Oh, I guess I’m just no good at dancing.” He whimpered.

“You’ll get it love.” Chetta kissed his cheek and began to run through the steps again. By the time they took a water break, they were all hot and excited to complete the entire routine at full speed to the music.

“So?” Grantaire bounced up to Enjolras.

“It’s fun, I’m enjoying myself.” Apollo sipped heavily from his water bottle.

“Alright ladies and gentlemen! Time to put it all together!” Musichetta called, clapping her hands together. Joly groaned and everyone got back into a semblance of formation. Chetta once again pressed play and the music started.

“Have I ever told you that I love Shakira?” Grantaire rhetorically asked Enjolras.

“Almost as much as you love Beyoncé, now hush, I’m trying to concentrate.” Enjolras replied, trying to get his core to roll like the instructors and R’s, “Hips, I don’t have any hips!” He squeaked to himself, crossing his wrists over themselves and attempting to get his pelvis to move in such a manner. Joly had finally had enough and called it quits, running out of the studio, squawking on about the germs on the floor and the sweat and whatever else he felt like ranting on about in the parking lot. Bousset ran out after him, slipping on a puddle of sweat and barely catching himself before his face hit the ground. He prayed no one saw and hurried after Joly.

Cosette and Eponine had the moves down pat and Marius was a couple of mis-timed steps from hitting Feuilly in the face. The other people in the studio seemed to be having a great time and enjoying Les Amis shenanigans as they danced.

“I LOVE SHAKIRA.” Grantaire roared, his hips moving ridiculously fast to the music. Needless to day, Enjolras was impressed, so impressed to the point where he just had to stop and watch, mesmerized. Chetta called his attention back to the dance and he laughed, stepping back in time with the others.

By the time they were done with the first song, they were drenched in sweat. Joly and Bousset had returned to learn the second dance.

Les Amis left the studio, their shirts soaked through and grins spanning from ear to ear. Jehan was even talking to Courfeyrac about going again. Joly apologized to Chetta for not giving the class a fair first chance and promised to come back for another.

Grantaire slung his arm around Enjolras’ shoulders, “We should hit up the latin dance clubs and show them our moves.”

Enjolras smirked and kissed Grantaire’s stubble, “Only if you take the lead.” Enjolras unlocked the car.

“Sure,” Grantaire opened his door, “‘cause you know my hips don’t lie.”


End file.
